


Part of a family

by Eleanor266Rigby



Series: What families do [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Whump (Supernatural), Corporal Punishment, Domestic Discipline, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Gen, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Non-Consensual Spanking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleanor266Rigby/pseuds/Eleanor266Rigby
Summary: Determined to become a hunter, the ex-angel Castiel begins to behave in a self-destructive way. Dean and Sam decide it's time to take a more hands-on approach and show their friend what it means to be part of a family. It contains corporal punishment.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester
Series: What families do [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087271
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54





	1. Problems

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags. Contains corporal punishment / spanking of a ex-angel on an adult's body by another adult. 
> 
> It is placed in season 9 with some modifications to the canon. Gadreel was expelled from Sam, Castiel has no grace and lives with the boys in the bunker.
> 
> English is not my first language, I apologize for the grammatical errors and please feel free to point them out.

“Dean.”

“For once, shut the fuck up.”

To Dean's surprise, Cas obeys perhaps for the first time in the day and just squeezes his lips together and looks out the window. The bastard has the nerve to look offended, reminding him of the time he treated him like a baby in a trench coat. Even after all these years, the situation is quite familiar: Cas has lost his grace and acts exactly like a stupid child wearing his father's trench coat.

In his head he can hear Sam repeating the reproach of the last few days.

“Give him some credit, Dean” that's what Sam would say over and over again. He's working hard, it's not easy for him without his grace, you should be patient with him.

And Dean has been patient with him, but he's no saint either, and Cas has become an expert at pushing his limits. He put up with him when he was an angel as dumb as the rest of his brothers (and a bit intimidating, but that's not something he'll recognize on a good day), forgave his betrayal and subsequent conversion to a soul-eating killing machine/god, listened to his ramblings about bees and monkey make-up when he lost his head, kept him on his feet when guilt seemed to consume him in their time in Purgatory, and he could spend hours recounting all the other foolish things Cas had done during their years of friendship that they had somehow managed to overcome; But perhaps the biggest prize, the drop that was beginning to spill from that incredibly giant tank he had filled all this time, would be taken away by the attempts to make Cas a half-functioning human-adult hunter-ex-angel. 

It's been a couple of weeks since Gadreel was expelled from Sam's body with the help of Dean, Cas and Crowley. Things aren't exactly right between him and his brother yet, but they're living peacefully together with Cas in the bunker, while Dean gives Sam time and space to forgive him for letting an angel into his body and expelling his friend from the only safe place just when he needed him most. So Dean has to admit that his patience has been, in part, his penance for behaving like a complete idiot with two of the only people he cares about in the world, so he agreed to help Cas to train as a hunter.

But then again, Dean's no saint.

Yeah, he's gotta admit, Sam's got a point; Cas has made an effort. He listens carefully to Dean and Sam's instructions for handling the technology he needs now as a human (though that almost cost him his computer), tries to do basic human activities like cooking and shopping (that definitely won't be repeated), and does a decent job of keeping himself clean and fed. But as soon as he begins his training as a hunter, Cas is determined to prove that an ex-angel older than humanity is good enough for this job. Dean is even more determined to show him that he couldn't be further from the truth.

* * *

They start with simple jobs. Dean teaches him how to shoot different kinds of weapons and Cas responds quite well. In hand-to-hand combat, he retains his agility as an ancient soldier, but he finds it hard to get used to much less force, so his blows lack forcefulness, and he ends up on the ground beneath Dean's body all too often. His research skills are quite precarious, but after all, the boy has only just discovered the Internet. But what is a complete failure is trying to get Cas to develop some common sense and intuition. He may be in the body of a human adult in his thirties, but Cas's human mind seems to be that of a child. He doesn't know the nuances of human behavior and stumbles over basic interactions like ordering a damn sandwich in the cafeteria. It doesn't take Dean long to decide that Cas is not ready to hunt, and Cas is quick to make his discontent clear.

In an effort to make things a little more practical, Dean took Cas to investigate four disappearances in a Wichita woods three weeks ago. The clues so far seemed to indicate that they were a Wendigo, a fairly simple job that any boy hunter would solve with his eyes closed. 

“I'll go hunt the son of a bitch,” Dean said as soon as they met outside the forest, “you stay by the car and make sure nothing moves around here.”

He took a couple of flares from the Impala's trunk and set off into the woods when Cas stopped him with one hand on his shoulder.

“I'll go with you,” he said with a scowl.

“No, you won't. You're not ready for this.”

He turned decisively, but Cas stopped him again.

“Of course I'm ready, Dean,” said Cas, “I've faced beings far more powerful than a Wendigo.”

“When you had your angel juice,” said Dean, “now get your ass back in the car.”

Cas opened his mouth to protest, but Dean had no time for such nonsense, so he went into the woods without looking back. Gun in hand, flares ready, set the bastard on fire... it was simple. He'd be done in a couple of minutes and come back to Cas, count it as a victory and show the guy how the real hunters celebrated. Cas had been living as a human for several months and still hadn't been properly drunk. He wasn't going to let that happen. But the minutes turned into an hour and Dean had failed to find the Wendigo. He was about to retrace his steps when he heard a gunshot deep in the woods.

“Son of a bitch,” he swore with his teeth clenched.

He didn't have to be an expert to suppose that it was Cas's gun that had made the sound, and that it hadn't come from where the bastard was supposed to be. It didn't take long to find it. And by the way, the Wendigo.

“Cas!” he shouted as soon as he saw it.

His friend was having a hard time trying to reload the gun as the Wendigo hovered over him. The monster was about to strike a blow when Dean's scream made it spin. He deftly pointed the flare gun at it and set it on fire. 

“What the hell were you thinking, Cas?!” he roared as the ex-angel stood beside him and watched curiously as the Wendigo was consumed. “I asked you a question!”

“You were taking too long,” explained Cas, turning his head like a confused puppy, “I just wanted to help.”

“You help me by following my damn orders,” he grunted with a clenched jaw, “let's get going.”

He strode to the car, with Cas behind him trying to keep up. He got into the Impala and slammed the door.

“I can see you're angry,” said Cas from the passenger seat.

“You've become incredibly good at seeing details.”

“Thank you.”

Dean turned to Cas and saw that the guy was talking honestly. He rolled his eyes in exhaustion. It was a losing battle. 

The way back was quiet, just the noise of the radio in the background. Dean was furious, but he had to admit that this was Cas's first hunt as a human and that he had made several mistakes himself years earlier while being trained by Dad. That thought reminded him briefly of the consequences he had to deal with when he thought he was smart enough to defy his father's orders. He looked sideways at Cas and shook his head, putting aside those thoughts.

* * *

Dean would like to admit that this was the first and only incident he had in Cas's training, but from that point on, the situation just kept escalating. After his little stunt, Cas had felt that if he could ignore Dean's orders during a hunt, he could ignore everything else as well. If Dean decided that Cas still had to train in hand-to-hand combat, Cas assumed that it was time to throw a couple of punches and kicks in a disastrous fight with a group of demons in Lebanon; if Sam suggested that he should spend more hours reading up on old cases to hone his investigative skills, Cas resolved that a millenary angel like himself had nothing to envy in banal human knowledge. If the boys decided to take over the interrogation of the mother of a 15-year-old girl killed by a Djinn, Cas wouldn't think twice about openly asking the victim's father if he knew his daughter was having sex with her boyfriend the night she died. In all, Dean can recount the consequences of Cas's stupidity in recent weeks: he was nearly killed dozens of times, his face is covered by incisions that have yet to heal, he blew his cover as an FBI agent three times, he drove his Impala into a dumpster and left a couple of very angry wives in the road. 

But today Cas has gone too far. It's not just about risking his life; after all, that's basically the way the three of them have learned to live. No. Now Dean has come to a conclusion: Cas is being deliberately suicidal. Even when he was an Angel of the Lord Almighty, he didn't take that many risks. Now that he's fully human, Cas has no sense of survival and doesn't care about his own well-being. He's being stubborn and foolish, and Dean isn't going to stand by and watch his friend chart a course of self-destruction. With that thought in mind, he drives the car into the bunker in complete silence. Look at Cas occasionally. The guy keeps staring out the window, keeps frowning and seeming bored. But Dean's no fool, he knows that behind that facade, Cas is worried. 

“You better be, you idiot,” he thinks bitterly.

* * *

It takes them a couple of hours to get to the bunker. As soon as Dean parks, Cas jumps out of the car, rushes to his room and slams the door. Dean snorts in anger. “He's a fucking kid, that's what.” When he gets to the main bunker room, he gets a beer and finds Sam sitting in front of his computer looking at him in confusion.

“Is everything all right?” asks his brother. “Cas seemed... frustrated.”

“He's throwing a goddamn tantrum,” he laughs unwillingly, dropping onto one of the chairs. “I think he's reached puberty.” 

Sam looks at him with understanding, encouraging him to continue. He doesn't have to tell him much more to make him understand that Cas has ruined it again. 

“The son of a bitch left the hotel, took my car, and drove to Haleyville,” Dean explains. He has to take a sip of his beer before he can go on. “He made me believe we were chasing Metatron leads, but he was looking for a couple of those Rit Zien bastards. He's lucky to be alive, I got there just in time to sneak them out.”

“But why would Cas try to hunt down the Rit Zien? Are they attacking again?”

“I don't know, man,” recognize Dean. He runs a hand over his face in frustration, “he told me they were, that Metatron's clues weren't false, that he found out the Rit Zien were killing again while we were at the hotel, and that he thought he could solve it on his own while I was asleep. “

Sam raises an eyebrow.

“And you don't think that's true.”

Dean clenches his jaw. He doesn't want to acknowledge the implications of Cas lying.

“Dean,” says his brother, “do you think Cas could have contacted the Rit Zien to... to ease his pain?

He's not capable of responding. 

“You can't let him keep doing this, Dean.”

He looks up and he looks at his brother.

“And what do you expect me to do? You told me to be patient, that's what I tried to do, and you see how well that works.”

“I know, Dean,” Sam answers decisively, “but this goes way beyond Cas burning down the kitchen or crashing the car. I asked you to be patient because Cas isn't so different from a child right now, he's trying to understand the world as human for the first time, remember how he used to be? You once told him that angels were idiots without feelings, and I know Cas was always different, but now he has to deal with human emotions and feelings, while trying to fight a war against angels and prove that he's useful, that he can do the same things as before, that he's good enough to do everything by himself. Doesn't he remind you of anyone?”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“I know what you're trying to get at,” he mumbles, “and it's definitely not the same case. We were stubborn with Dad and probably did one or two stupid things, but we'd never have gotten away with it.”

“That's right, because Dad wouldn't have allowed it and somehow it kept us alive.”

Dean looks at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, I know I wasn't always Dad's biggest supporter, but if it hadn't been for his discipline, I don't think either of us would have made it to 30 alive, and besides, I didn't just get punished by Dad.”

“You were an unbearable brat,” Dean reproaches, “you deserved every one of the spankings I gave you.”

“I wasn't a 'brat' last time,” Sam keeps pushing.

“You acted like a damn addict, you slept with a demon and you let Lucifer go, what did you expect me to do?”

“And neither were you when Bobby showed that he wasn't very impressed with you trying to give up Michael.” 

Dean slams out of his chair.

“What do you want, Sam?” he says angrily, “you want me to whip Cas and send him into the corner to think? It's Cas we're talking about! Does that sound like an ex-angel of the Lord to you?”

“And now he's a human, Dean,” his brother insists calmly, “a human who sometimes acts like a child and everything he does will lead to his death, and he doesn't seem to care at all.”

Dean shakes his head in disbelief. He's surprised his brother's the one suggesting he kick Cas's ass. The guy had never willingly accepted the punishments that Dad, Dean, and Bobby decided to administer, much less when they involved a show on his butt. In this life, neither of them was immune to physical discipline. A former Marine and hunter father meant little willingness to tolerate deliberate disobedience, especially if it was something that would unnecessarily risk one's life. Besides, Dean and Sam weren't like other kids, they didn't have privileges that could be taken away, and they didn't stay in one place long enough to be grounded. Discipline at home was simple: you got in trouble, you took the consequences, which usually involved extra hours of physical activity and, if you really messed up, a date with Dad's or Bobby's belt. When Dean was old enough, Dad ordered him to take care of Sam's discipline in his absence; he had hated every second he had to cause his brother pain, but he understood the need behind the punishments. As adults, Dean and Sam were no strangers to discipline either, since Bobby had made it very clear that, in his eyes, they would always be his boys. And while he hates facing a whipping in the butt like a disobedient child, Dean must admit that punishment can be very soothing: the feeling of being purged of his mistakes and getting forgiveness from the people he loves most can be rewarding.

But... spank Cas? Certainly, the ex-angel is now more than the constipated idiot he knew years ago. He's become a brother to him, but he can't conceive of taking his belt and whipping the ass of a being so old that even a few months ago he could shine with the light of a star.

Sam's voice takes him out of his thoughts.

“Cas is family. We must protect family. If you're not willing to do it, then I will.”

Dean looks at him with a scowl. Sam's face is full of decision. He can certainly imagine his brother in that situation, strange as it may seem. But no. Dean knows it's his responsibility; it's not just that it's his orders that Cas defied, or that he was particularly offended and deceived, but it's the bond he shares with Cas. It was his friend who gripped him tightly and raised him from perdition

He sighs and looks at his brother.

“You're right.”

Sam nods and just then a noise in the room makes them spin.

“I may not be an angel,” Cas says with a scowl, “but I can still hear you guys talking about whipping me up and sending me into the corner.”


	2. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Determined to become a hunter, the ex-angel Castiel begins to behave in a self-destructive way. Dean and Sam decide it's time to take a more hands-on approach and show their friend what it means to be part of a family. It contains corporal punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Chapter 2! I hope you enjoy. Thank you very much for your comments and kudos.
> 
> Warnings: corporal punishment.

To be human is, in general terms, an interesting challenge for Castiel. Every day he faces situations that can be as fantastic as they are overwhelming. Before Purgatory, he learned to appreciate certain earthly details that he had previously ignored. He found the bees fascinating. He particularly enjoyed being enveloped in a swarm of them, surrounded by their buzzing, letting them walk about on his skin, watching indifferently the welts generated by their occasional sting. Shortly after becoming human, he had found a bee perched on a flower in the garden that he cleaned while in the homeless shelter. He wanted to hold it in his hands to see if his now fully human eyes could appreciate the beauty of this being as before, but he withdrew them as soon as he felt a burning sensation running through his right hand. He looked at his thumb and withdrew a sting. He instinctively put his finger to his mouth in an attempt to ease the fire. Suddenly the bees didn't seem so fascinating. 

But not all experiences have been as unpleasant as bee stings. Feeling the real taste of the food, rather than just a scattered set of molecules, can be very rewarding. Except for that time when he tasted stale cheese. 

While staying clean without his grace can be a demanding task, Castiel admits that warm showers are very relaxing. Dean tends to laugh strangely and be quite insistent when he asks Castiel why he spends so much time in the shower. Sam rebukes him and begs him to act like an adult. Castiel doesn't understand why there's so much mystery surrounding the idea of letting water flow over his body for a long time.

Sleep was overwhelming in the early days. The feeling of succumbing to exhaustion and losing yourself completely in a sea of unconsciousness, while trying to hide from the angels and survive in the cold streets, was terrifying. But since he can have a roof over his head, he has found pleasure in sinking on the pillow and letting his thoughts be consumed by sleep. Except when he has nightmares, but that's another matter.

Emotions, on the other hand, are a... delicate matter. Castiel had already discovered shortly after rebelling against the heavens that perhaps he had a serious manufacturing error. But that night, as soon as he opened his eyes in the forest, inside a body without any trace of his grace, seeing his brothers fall from the sky like shooting stars, he knew what it was like to feel true pain. Before that, he had managed to do a relatively decent job of controlling the incipient emotions he could feel. His grace was far greater than any physical or emotional pain. If he so chose, he could turn every sensation into a scattered haze. But at that point, it only took a couple of seconds with his eyes in the sky for his composure to threaten to shatter. What surprised him most was the dampness that blurred his vision, while a sensation on his chest seemed to take his breath away. It took everything in his power to keep him from succumbing to the pain, to stand up and go on his way. He was a soldier, after all.

Soon after, he understood that the human body perceives these sensations just before it starts to cry. He discovered this one night when, sitting in a smelly alley, the cold of the rain falling on him reminded him that he had nothing in the world. At first, he thought his body was shivering from the cold and that air was escaping from his lungs because of a possible flu. Then he understood that the moisture on his cheeks was not just from the rain and decided, for the first time in thousands of years, to let his emotions take over. 

Crying is one of the least pleasant experiences of being a human. Yes, it is true that angels also cry, but with much less ease than a human and always happens when all his senses and emotions become something impossible to control, and he knows very well that a soldier shouldn't lose control, which is just what he feels will happen at any time. 

The atmosphere in the Impala is tense. Castiel doesn't know if his loss of a sense of time has anything to do with it, but he feels the hours pass with deliberate slowness as he waits for Dean to say anything. But the journey back to the bunker is quiet and this only contributes to Castiel having much more time to delve deeper into the unpleasant emotions that now plague him.

Dean seems determined to believe that Castiel is lying. Yes, maybe it was a mistake to take his car and go looking for the two Rit Zien on his own, but he already knows how to drive much better and, after all, the trail of Metatron was pretty cold. Besides, Castiel didn't mean for the situation to turn into a killing spree. Back at the motel, Castiel had expressed his insecurities to Dean about continuing behind the track they had found. 

“I know it's not much, Cas,” Dean had said, “but you were the one who suggested we come, and I don't want the trail to get any colder than it is. Maybe we still have something.”

“I don't know, Dean,” said Castiel, “maybe it's no use going this way, those angels could have lied.”

“Those dicks always lie,” replied Dean, “but what they said makes sense. Come on, just get some sleep, we'll continue tomorrow.”

Castiel told him he'd be out of the room for a while to get some air. But he ventured well beyond the motel room. Actually, he wanted to take a look at the rumors that had recently reached him about several attacks in the vicinity of the town, similar to those committed by the Rit Zien who wanted to kill him. He didn't want to involve Dean in this. He had a particular affair with the Rit Zien and didn't want to go through the humiliation again of being saved by Dean from a creature that revealed the deepest pain in his heart. 

He can't lie. While his mood has improved markedly after the Winchesters took him back to the bunker, frustration has become a daily recurring theme. No matter how hard he tries, he can't help but feel like a child learning to take his first steps. His body is weak, his mind fails to process information as it once did, his feelings of guilt fill him with nightmares at night, and Dean keeps belittling his futile efforts to become a halfway decent hunter. He was a failure as an angel and now he's failing as a human. 

However, facing the Rit Zien on his own was a way of saying to himself that he could deal with the pain, that he was willing to face the guilt without losing heart, just as the humans did. Clearly, none of this turned out the way he had hoped. While his pain was now much more manageable than before, for the Rit Zien he was still a target simply because he was Castiel, the infamous angel who drove all his brothers out of heaven. He would have died a second time as a human if not for Dean's ever-timely appearance.

Along the way, Castiel tries hard to explain his intentions, but Dean isn't willing to listen to a single word. Frustrated, he sets about the task of remaining silent, trying to keep his anger and shame under control at least until he finds himself alone in his bunker room. If he has learned anything from the Winchesters, it's that emotions must be managed in solitude. As soon as they reach the bunker, Castiel rush out of the Impala. Maybe going through Sam and slamming the door is a little childish, but to hell with it. Didn't Dean say all along that Castiel was acting like a child? After training for the last few months as a human, Castiel manages to control the bubble of emotion inside him a little more easily, at least enough not to start throwing objects around the room like he's seen Dean do. “And I'm the one throwing tantrums,” he thinks ironically. 

In a matter of minutes, he decides he's calm enough to go out into the main room and talk things over. With Sam there, it'll probably be easier to control Dean's anger. After all, the youngest of the Winchesters has always been much kinder and more understanding than his brother. He walks down the hall into the living room, when the sounds of conversation between the two brothers reach him. He stops to try to listen, because he wants to know how much anger he has to deal with this time. He gets mainly unconnected phrases. He can hear words about John Winchester and Bobby, and about Sam being a brat and drinking demon blood. He wonders what this has to do with his encounter with the Rit Zien. But he hears Dean's next words clearly:

“What do you want, Sam? Do you want me to whip Cas and send him into the corner to think?”

Castiel's frowning. Is Sam suggesting that Dean beat him up? That doesn't sound like Sam, though he's certainly surprised that in the last few months Dean has only thrown out scathing comments instead of punches, except when he gets tougher in his melee workouts. They've both succumbed to physical violence in the past for a lot less than that. And something about sending him into the corner to think? Is that some rhetorical phrase to imply he'll get kicked out of the bunker? He backs off with some fear, but then he hears Sam say that Castiel's family, too, and that he'll do it if Dean doesn't. He'll have to fight them both? If he doesn't let himself get beaten up, will they kick him out of the bunker? Confused, he decides to go into the room. 

“Maybe I'm not an angel,” he says with a scowl, “but I can still hear you talking about 'whipping me up and sending me into the corner.”

He sees the brothers jump up and down in surprise. 

“Cas,” says Sam, “I'm sorry, I didn't know you were there.”

“I understand you're both angry,” he begins to speak diplomatically, “but I'd rather you listened to me before you do... whatever it is you're planning to do with me.”

“No, you idiot,” refutes Dean, standing up and approaching Castiel, while pointing a finger at his chest, “you're gonna listen to us. This nonsense about putting your ass on the line is over, you understand?”

“Dean,” Sam interrupts, laying a hand on his brother's man, “let him talk, okay?”

Reluctantly, Dean steps back and folds his arms. Both brothers hover over him, and suddenly Castiel sees them much taller than before.

“I think your anger is irrational, Dean.”

“Well, that's enough of that.” Dean tries to move toward him again, but Sam stops him. “What, Sam? He said he wanted to talk, and he said his stupid thing. Now he's gonna listen to me.”

“No, Dean, not like that,” says Sam getting all high and mighty. “Cas, sit down, will you?”

Castiel scowls at the chair Sam offers him. Will he have to sit while he's being beaten? His anger starts to bubble up again, and he decides that as much as he loves this pair of humans, he won't let them beat him up while he sits patiently in a chair. He won't humiliate himself like that. 

“I'm fine here,” he replies, crossing his arms and backing away a bit. He can see Dean rolling his eyes and Sam frowning.

“I just want to talk to you, Cas, we have a few things to discuss.”

Sam's never lied to him, so Castiel sits there waiting for them to repeat the gesture. They don't. They hover over him even more, and he doesn't like that at all, because it makes him feel too small.

“Why are you saying that Dean shouldn't be angry?” asks Sam. 

He looks at Dean, who's just making a gesture to demand that he talk.

“I just don't know what you're so angry about. I've done worse without you threatening to hit me and... send me into the corner, although I don't understand what that means.”

“We're not going to hit you, Cas,” Sam sighs. “Or well, maybe that's one way of putting it, but it doesn't. It's more like-”

“What Sam means,” interrupts Dean, “is that your ass is gonna have a talk with my belt right now.” 

This is even weirder. How is he gonna have a talk with Dean's belt? Or does that mean... He stops and scowls. The Winchesters certainly aren't assuming he'll be punished the way parents reprimand their wayward children. Of course, he's not ignorant of this form of discipline, which is almost as ancient as he is. He knows that in some cultures physical punishment extends to individuals of all ages, but mainly as a form of judicial discipline. He also remembers the time when Dean scolded him for watching that movie about the babysitter and the pizzaman. The guy kept hitting the girl's rear, but the movie hadn't given enough context to why she was being punished and neither of the Winchesters wanted to explain. When he realizes that the brothers are waiting for him to speak, he finds his words again

“That's... inappropriate,” he says.

“Do you hear that, Sam?” answers Dean with a humorless laugh, “inappropriate, he says. Shall I tell you what's inappropriate? Tricking me into thinking we're following Metatron, all so you can steal my car and go on a suicide mission.”

“That's not entirely accurate,” Castiel protests, “I didn't plan on a suicide mission. And Metatron wasn't a hoax.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you had no idea there were murdering bastards on the loose and that you didn't plan to confront them when you told me to go to that town.”

Castiel is moving uncomfortably under Dean's watch. He can't fool him.

“You see? Again with the lies, Cas!” Dean roars with a mixture of rage and pain. “Come on, I want to hear it from your mouth.”

Castiel sighs with resignation. 

“I knew there were Rit Zien attacks in town,” he finally admits, not letting go of the disappointment he sees in Sam and Dean's eyes, “but Metatron wasn't a hoax, Dean! You were there with me yourself when the angels gave us that information. I found out about the Rit Zien while we were on the Metatron case.”

“And you didn't think it was important to share that information with me?” demands Dean.

“I thought I could face them on my own,” he says in a quiet voice, “obviously I was wrong and now I understand.”

“It's always the same, Cas! You always think you can do things on your own, that you're invincible, you almost died today and all you can say is that 'my anger is irrational'.” 

Castiel doesn't say anything. There's no point in trying to explain. Dean would never understand, and from what he can see, Sam is on his side now. 

“Okay,” Dean says again, “Sam wanted you to talk. You talked.”

He sees the older Winchester looking at his brother, who only nods with a sigh. Then Dean puts his hands on his belt, and suddenly Castiel remembers what he's up to. He's not at all comfortable with the situation, and he plans to make it very clear

“I think I must insist that I find this inappropriate,” he repeat, “and absurd.” 

“Doesn't your father say that foolish children should be punished with the rod?” says Dean sardonically.

“I'm not a child and you're certainly not my father,” refutes Castiel, “and I know you'll say I'm acting like a child, but I'm far from being one.”

He's tired of this nonsense, so he gets up from his chair and turns to his room, but he finds Sam's chest, looks up and sees incredibly moving eyes. But Castiel won't fall for what Dean calls 'Sam's puppy dog look'. 

“Please, Cas,” begs Sam, “don't make it harder on everyone, will you?” 

“I'll tell you what's going to happen,” says Dean, pointing to him with a finger and his voice full of decision. “This is going to happen with or without your cooperation. The harder you make it for us, the harder I'll make it for you. So you have two choices: drop your pants and voluntarily bend over the counter, take your whipping, learn your lesson, and we can all go to sleep in peace, or Sammy here will hold you down like a little boy, you'll end up over my knee, and I'll spank you until you beg me to stop. Your choice.”

Castiel knows that Dean won't hesitate to keep his promise to have him held like a child, and he definitely can't compete with the strength of these two men, so, as far as he can see, his choices are limited to deciding how humiliated he wants to end up today. He looks down at Dean's belt and thinks that, aside from the denigration of punishment, it really won't be that bad. He's lived for thousands of years and has endured all kinds of torture. If human children can take a beating in a stoic way, he will too. Besides, as a former soldier of the armies of Heaven, he knows a thing or two about discipline. There was no room for disobedience among his army, for every angel of lower rank knew that insubordination could cost him far more drastic punishments than a few strokes in his bottom region. 

He starts by taking off his trench coat and placing it on the chair. He can see that both brothers breathe a sigh when they know that he will reluctantly accept this stupid punishment. He turns to the table and stands in front of it with his hands on the button of his pants. Castiel hasn't had much time as a human to develop a sense of modesty, so he is surprised when he feels the heat on his cheeks as he pushes the pants, which fall gracelessly around his ankles. He puts his fingers on the white boxer shorts he wears as underwear. He stops without looking at Dean.

“Should I...?” 

“Those can stay today,” he replies, understanding his gesture. Today? Does he intend to do this more than once? Castiel is definitely not going to allow it.

He listens to the tinkle of the belt buckle as Dean bends it in his right hand. Castiel is completely still and can feel his legs weakening. When Dean clears his throat, he remembers that he's supposed to bend over the counter, so he tilts his body forward by supporting his elbows and hiding his head between his clenched fists. 

He shudders when he feels Dean take the back of his shirt and lift it over his back, further clearing his target. The position alone is completely humiliating, and the punishment hasn't even begun. He doesn't want to imagine what the angels of his garrison would say when they saw him bending over a pair of humans, with his buttocks in perfect position to receive a childish punishment. He would almost prefer to receive Heaven's re-education. But if this will make the Winchesters forget what he did and return everything to normal, he will accept it with resignation. 

His mental ramblings are interrupted by the fire that appears on his upper thighs. He realizes that the first lash has fallen, and he couldn't even register the sound. He is even more surprised by the fact that, without having fully processed that first lash, the second one falls at the same point. He would have jumped out of position if Dean hadn't anticipated his movement, placing a hand on his back to keep him from getting up. 

“You must hold your position, Cas,” he says in a voice so soft that it doesn't seem to belong to the man who is raining lashes on his buttocks and thighs.

Embarrassed at not being able to control himself when he has just begun his punishment, he carries his body forward with strength, trying to keep his elbows completely stuck to the counter. The belt begins to fall at a constant rate. The sensation is irritating, but Castiel believes it is a perfectly tolerable punishment. He'll concentrate on keeping his breathing even and when he least expects it Dean will tell him he can get up. Yes, he will.

It's not easy to keep this goal in mind when the noise of the belt on his covered buttocks and exposed thighs, resonates endlessly in his ears, and even more so, with the heat accumulating in his back. The pain reminds him of that bee sting, but the difference is that now he's being stung by many bees at the same time. He tries to distract himself by thinking of anything, whatever keeps his mind off the pain. He forces himself to remember his training as a soldier, bringing back pleasant memories. “Bees, bees are fascinating. No, don't think about bees now! Blueberry jelly sandwiches. Hot showers, no, not hot, I'll need a very cold shower, or maybe an ice bath, but I'd have to sit on the tub, and I won't be able to-”

“Now, Cas,” his thoughts are interrupted by Dean's voice, which doesn't stop the rhythm of his whipping, “I think it's time to talk.”

Aren't they supposed to have talked already? How does Dean expect him to talk if he keeps strapping the belt on his ass?

“Would you like to tell us why you decided to go up against the Rit Zien alone?” questions Dean, still not stopping.

“No.”

Dean stops briefly.

“Excuse me?”

“You asked me if I want to tell you why I went alone and my answer is no, I don't want to.”

The lash that falls to the center of his buttocks is decidedly stronger and forces him to raise his head.

“Ah!”

“Do you want to change your answer?”

“No, I don't want to tell you yet.”

An even stronger lash falls in the same place again. He manages to disguise his scream with an irritated grunt.

“Am I supposed to lie?” 

“Don't play dumb with me, Castiel, I know you understand exactly what I mean.”

Castiel puts his forehead back in his fists. They may have forced him to face this punishment, but he won't be forced to talk as if it were a vulgar interrogation. He decides to remain silent, but with that he only manages to get Dean to fire a burst of strong lashes on the naked skin of his thighs, which forces him to be held against the table again and to hiss and jump on the tips of his feet. He registers half a dozen blows before he finally speaks.

“All right, all right! Ow, Dean! I'll talk!”

This seems to calm Dean down because the belt stays still on his buttocks. It's a clear gesture of latent threat, so Castiel decides to talk.

“I just wanted to prove that I could stand up to them on my own and that I wouldn't be seen as a pain point to eliminate,” he admits tired. 

The punishment has started to wear him out, and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold still without screaming. Dealing with discipline inside a human body is proving to be much more difficult than he expected.

“And what did you get?” asks Dean.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you achieve what you planned? Demonstrate that you could face them alone?”

Castiel sighs with suspicion. 

“I already said that. I know I made a mistake and that I was wrong to confront them alone.”

“Why do you think you didn't take them out, Cas?” He's surprised by the sound of Sam's voice, who had kept quiet during the entire punishment, “I mean, do you still feel pain?”

“Right now, obviously I do, what do you think, Samuel?”

His answer is rewarded by another lash on his buttocks that takes him by surprise.

“Ow!” 

“Don't get smart,” Dean scolds, “answer Sam's question.”

“I was outnumbered, not because I have suicidal urges, and they felt it, if that's what you want to know.” 

Their boring response doesn't earn him another lash, so he assumes that's what they want to hear. Until Sam talks again.

“Are you sure, Cas?” asks gently, “do you feel all right now?”

Castiel spits. He's so tired, he doesn't feel like lying. 

“Cas,” incites Dean, rubbing the belt over his legs. 

“I... I admit I feel a bit depressed, I guess, I feel useless, I try my best to get used to being a human, but I just make one mistake after another, just like when I was an angel. I can't get any better at anything I do, my brothers are out of home maybe forever and it's all my fault. Besides, I can't do anything to help them because I'm stuck in this stupid, worthless meat suit.”

Vocalizing the thoughts that have haunted him for months releases some of the weight he carries, but it also makes his chest feel strange. He can't believe that this punishment is anywhere near making him cry. Nor can he help to feel anger toward the Winchester brothers for inciting him to humiliate himself in such a way. He has endured so much more without even screaming. He tries to regulate his breathing to keep control but is interrupted by another round of heavy lashes. What did he say wrong now?

“Dean! Now what?!”

“Now we go on,” that's all Dean says for an answer, “now's when you stop saying that bullshit.”

“You asked me for the truth!”

“And that doesn't stop it from being bullshit, Cas!”

Castiel buries his nails to the palms of his hands. The physical pain and the emotional turmoil that accumulates in his chest bring a recognizable wetness to his eyes. He squeezes them tightly and tries to keep his moans at a moderate volume. At this point it's inevitable that he'll hiss or growl every time a particularly painful stroke is connected to his back, but at least he'll try to maintain his dignity and not launch himself into pleading as if it were the worst of tortures. Dean and his chatter with incessant whipping don't help much.

“Seriously that's what you think you are now?” he asks without waiting for an answer and without stopping moving his belt. “Just because you're a human, you've become a 'worthless meat suit'? You're not just a stupid angel mojo and a pair of invisible wings!” 

“Listen to him,” says Sam, “you're just Cas to us. Not an Angel of the Lord, not a god, not a vessel. Just Cas, our friend.” 

It's useless to keep trying to stop the flow of tears that now seep between his eyelids. He's too hurt, too angry, too indignant, too sad, too moved.

“You're our family, Cas,” continues Dean, leading a round of lashes on his bare thighs, “and we families protect ourselves. And if that means tanning your ass every time you decide to do something stupid just to prove your worth, then get ready because that's what we're going to do.” 

He feels very close to his breaking point. He's doing his best to stay calm, but his chest has already started to contract with silent sobbing that gently shakes his shoulders. The fire in his back just keeps growing if that's possible. He can't keep completely still and now he's twisting his hips back and forth. Dean doesn't chide him but holds him tighter and continues his task of lighting the fire on his butt.

“Cas, you were an angel for thousands of years,” Sam continues, “but you've only had a couple of months to learn how to be a human. You can't expect everything to be easy in a matter of days, but you're still doing a good job. You have to be patient and learn to trust us, okay?”

He can't talk without breaking into an open cry, so he just nods his head. He just wants this to be over.

“Verbal responses, Cas” asks Dean. In the face of his silence, he increases the speed of the whipping.

“OWW! All right, all right!”

“All this nonsense ends now, you understand?” Dean continues. He has put one arm around his hips and now the lashes are concentrated right where the fire feels even worse. Castiel no longer bothers to stop his screams after every lash. “If you want to be a hunter, you'll act like one: you'll obey your leader on the hunt, you won't make life-threatening decisions without consulting us, you'll accept the training we give you and you'll stop this self-destructive behavior, is that clear?”

His whole body has collapsed on the table, and he can no longer do anything but nod as he cries as quietly as he can.

“I asked if it was clear, Cas.”

“Yes, Dean! That's enough!”

“That's not for you to decide, Cas.”

He moans in desperation and just cries into his arms. He's lost all his remaining breath. He can't register the moment when the lashes stop coming, because the feeling of heat is still as strong as before. He hears the sound of the belt returning to Dean's jeans. He sighs with relief, it's finally over. A hand on his shoulder helps him up. He staggers into position and keeps his gaze fixed on the floor. He realizes that his pants are still around his ankles, so he bends down to accommodate them, unable to avoid the hissing sound that comes from his lips as his legs and buttocks rub against his clothes. He almost prefers to get completely naked. The silence that hangs over the room is too uncomfortable. Castiel clears his throat before speaking, confident that his voice will not be broken.

“Is that all? May I be excused?”

He can't look up to see the brothers' faces, but he can hear the common sigh that both of them let out.

“No, Cas, that's not all, come here,” says Sam before he feels his arms around him. 

Castiel doesn't feel like hugging back. Frankly, he doesn't know what he's feeling. He feels anger at the Winchesters for making him submit to punishment, humiliation for not having overcome it as stoically as he intended, a mixture of love and distrust for the words of the brothers, the desire to reciprocate Sam's hug and let himself sink into his chest to cry himself to sleep, and definitely a deep pain in his ass. Being a human is very exhausting. Sam seems to sense his discomfort, so he resigns himself to letting it out of his arms. Dean won't budge, but he looks pretty confused on his feet. None of that matters to Castiel right now. He just wants to go to his room and sink into his pillow. He takes a mental note to remember to do it on his stomach.

“Go rest, Cas,” Sam sighs with one of his gestures, “take as much time as you need.”

Castiel nods reluctantly and turns to walk to his room. It takes all his self-control not to limp around like a newly disciplined child. But that's all he is, right?


	3. Conversations

The road to his room is longer than usual. He drags his feet with his head dull, thinking about everything and nothing. He gently closes the door and drops onto the bed on his stomach. The flow of tears has stopped, but he continues to feel that annoying tightness in his chest that doesn't let him breathe calmly. The pain in all his back region has him trying to find a proper position, until finally he gets up with a sigh, takes off his shoes and slips his pants down his legs. The burning persists, he knows it will probably continue like this for the next hours, maybe days, and that will just be a constant reminder of the humiliating position he just went through.

He wants to feel angry with Dean and Sam, but he knows that his anger is mainly with himself. Today's events are just the result of his stupid actions. He certainly expected consequences: Dean's indifference and coldness for days, the ban on taking him back to the hunt, even considered having him expelled from the bunker. But in none of those possible scenarios he thought he would be whipped like a disobedient child. The punishment was more degrading than unbearable, although he cannot deny that it was quite painful. Curiously, he turns his hips a little to look back and briefly lift the edge of his boxer shorts. He feels the heat radiating from his thighs and legs, and he can see a furious redness, speckled with violet contours. There are areas plagued by petechiae where he can clearly see that the skin was about to break, and when he takes his hand to the curve of his buttocks he hisses in surprise and feels an area full of hives.

He changes his mind. This wasn't the punishment of a disobedient child because he’s sure that a child shouldn't receive such severe punishment under the pretext of discipline. This was a harsh and blunt punishment, though not even close to the punishments in his days in heaven. Curiously, this gives him a little peace of mind, because he believes that perhaps he received a punishment proportional to his fault and that there is no reason to feel degraded; after all, he took it like a soldier: he didn’t resist and endured it with stoicism. 

No matter how deserved his punishment, his buttocks and legs still hurt terribly, and this is a feeling that he definitely doesn’t like. But also he knows that’s not only physical pain what he feels; in fact, while he was being punished he was able to keep his composure under the attack of Dean's belt, but as soon as the brothers started talking, it was like knocking down all walls that he had built around him. Everything was simpler with his grace cushioning pain and emotions, but now that he cannot separate himself from his physical body, trying to calm down the sensation stir is exhausting and useless. 

Remembering Dean and Sam's words bring tears to his eyes again. It’s precisely this that keeps him from becoming angry with the brothers. While it's hard for him to understand why Dean would talk about how much he cares while strapping him down, he can definitely appreciate some of the words behind their angry voices. They, especially Dean, are reluctant to show affection, but he remembers clearly that they told him he was their friend and part of the family, even without their grace. Even Sam hugged him, though that's not so strange, Sam is a hugger.

He has too many things to think about, but the punishment has left him incredibly exhausted, so he simply lays his head down on the pillow and tries to sleep, but he can't find a position that's comfortable for him, as the rubbing of his underwear constantly reminds him of the burning in his back. Sulking with the pillow under his arms, he hears the knock at his door. He sighs wearily before grunting in response. He sees Sam enter cautiously.

“I didn't know if you'd be awake.”

“Mmm.”

He sees Sam moving restlessly on his feet. Finally, the man decides to sit down next to Castiel on the edge of the bed.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Mmm.”

“Cas, I…”

“I'm fine, Sam," Castiel interrupts with a sigh. “Just incredibly exhausted and... in pain.”

Sam nods uncomfortably, carrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“Cas,” he says in a quiet voice, "I know you're confused and angry right now, but...”

“I said I'm fine," he gruns a little louder than he means to sound. He sees Sam shrink and speaks more softly. “I understand, Sam. I made a mistake and paid the consequences. I really understand, it's just that...”

He cuts his words without knowing how to say them. Sam urges him to continue with a gesture.

“It was just... unexpected," Castiel continues, "uncomfortable. Humiliating, I might add.”

“It's part of the punishment, Cas. I've been in your shoes, man. Nobody likes getting whipped like that, but it definitely works, don't you think?”

“I guess I don't feel like doing that again anytime soon," he mutters in agreement. See Sam raise an eyebrow. “Or never. I don't want to go through this again. Ever.”

Sam laughs softly. He seems more relaxed now.

“Neither do we, Cas.” He scowls and turns to him with a determined look. “Listen to me. I want you to understand that this was as terrible for us as it was for you. No, don't interrupt. I know it's your ass that was kicked, but none of us were at all excited about doing this to you, especially Dean. We needed a way to get to you. Everything we said is true, you know that, right?”

Castiel shrugs his shoulders and looks away.

“Cas... you know we never talk for the sake of talking. Every word was true, you're family, Cas, and if you're still not sure about that, let me tell you that this thing that happened is just another sign that you're one of us.”

Cas looks at it in confusion.

“That's right," Sam continues. “That's how we deal with things in this family. It wasn't like that in heaven, was it?”

“Mmm no, they didn't just whip my lower region," he responds reflectively. “They also didn't tell me... that sort of thing while I was being punished.”

“Because all they cared about was that you paid for what you did," Sam explains. “They didn't care about anything else but getting revenge. We didn't want to take it out on you, we wanted to make you understand how dangerous your actions were to your safety. We wanted you to understand how important you are to us, but not because you are a tool, but because you are family. We want to keep you safe, Cas. Can you understand that?”

Castiel must blink quickly to keep the tears from his eyes. He just nods gently.

“It was a little weird for you, wasn't it? Sam asks, smiling sideways, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Castiel sighs before answering.

“I wasn't quite sure what was going to happen,” he admits. “I've seen that kind of punishment before, mostly in children or young adults. I don't think any angel has ever been punished like that.”

s

“Maybe that's what they lacked,” Sam laughs. “It's not very often that adults get spanked, but it happens in some families.”

“Is it something... frequent in this family?”

“Not very, no," Sam reflects. “Dad and Bobby always had a kind of rule. If you acted like an idiot and it endangered your life or your family's, without good reason, your ass would probably be in the line of fire. We lead dangerous lives, so we always make decisions that put our safety at risk, but there is a difference between reasonable risk and unnecessary risk. Sometimes it's a fine line between one and the other, but other times it's clear when you act like a fool. When you do that in this family, your butt has a good talk with the belt, usually Bobby's, sometimes Dean's.” Sam stops for a moment. “There's kind of a chain of command in this, you know? I guess it's because of our military education. I answer to Bobby and Dean, and Dean answers to Bobby.”

“But I'm a thousand years older than all of you," Castiel says with a scowl.

Sam laughs openly.

“This doesn't have much to do with age, Cas. You've literally been living like a human for months, and only a little longer trying to hunt. You have a lot to learn yet.”

“That puts me at the bottom of the chain of command, doesn't it?” concludes Castiel with a hint of annoyance. He can't help but think that a few years ago he was leading armies in the sky.

“Don't take it badly," Sam asks. “That just means you have all of us to protect you.”

“And to punish me.”

“Only when you act like a fool, will you act like a fool again?”

Castiel shakes his head. He’s much more exhausted now. He doesn't succeed in trying to hide a yawn.

“You should sleep," suggests Sam.

“I tried," he grunts angrily, "but it's like sitting on a beehive. I can't get distracted.”

“I know the feeling, buddy," Sam says understandingly. His gaze stops briefly on the red lines behind his legs. “It will get better in a few days.”

Castiel sighs. He's sure he won't sit comfortably until the next apocalypse, but he doesn't feel like arguing anymore. Sam stands up and walks to the door. 

“Wait, Sam,” he stops him at the doorframe, “Dean... is he still angry?”

“No, Cas," he says. “He's a little upset about the situation, but not with you. I didn't lie to you when I said this was hard for him.”

“I'm sorry," he says honestly.

“I know, Cas, all is forgiven. Just rest.”

Castiel drops his head on the pillow as he watches the door close behind Sam. Soon he falls asleep.

* * *

Dean needs two bottles of beer before he decides to go to Cas's room. He knocks on the door. Since he doesn't get an answer, he enters quietly. 

The ex-angel looks more like an angel than ever sleeping on his stomach, his hair a mess, his mouth slightly open and wearing only his shirt, a pair of socks and a white boxer shorts. He spits with difficulty when he sees the mottled red on Cas's upper legs. He knows he was harsh with his friend, but no more than he would have been with Sam, and definitely less than he would have received from his father, even from Bobby. But that doesn't make it any easier to see the damage he did.

“I don't like this feeling,” he listens to Cas say half asleep. He smiles softly as he sees him open his eyes and blink in confusion. “Dean?”

“Cas.”

“My bottom hurts," he says, still sleepy and with a hoarser voice than usual. He sees him moaning with annoyance on the pillow. 

“I know, Cas," he grins humorlessly, uncertainly, "are you okay?

Cas blinks, finishing waking up. He turns his hips a little to lie on his side, but not before making a couple of grimaces that he can't suppress. Dean is afraid to look him in the eye, but he finds no trace of rancor in his gaze.

“I will be," he answers calmly. “Are you alright?”

“I'm better now," Dean admits. He sits up in bed not knowing what to say. These chick moments have never been his strong suit, but Cas deserves much more than his discomfort. “Sam told me he talked to you, but I want to make sure things are okay between us.”

“They are, Dean," says Cas, and Dean only finds sincerity in his words. “I... Sam said all is forgiven.”

“And it is, clean slate, _capiche_?”

“Yes, _capiche_ ," smiles Cas. Then his smile twists into a grimace as he tries to sit down. “I'll feel better when I take a cold shower, if you don't mind.”

“Go ahead, buddy,” Dean agrees, now more relaxed. “There are painkillers in the bathroom, so take two, okay?”

“Can I do that?” asks Cas with a frown.

“Of course, you don't have to suffer any more than necessary.”

Cas looks at him with curiosity, turning his head a bit like a confused puppy. Then he smiles and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Dean. I think I understand everything now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your anger, the punishment, what... what you said.” Cas looks at him with those ice-blue eyes. Even now, without his grace, he keeps going through it with his eyes like on the first day. “I'm happy to be a part of this family, even though you're wrecking my ass.”

He says it in a deep, confident voice, as if he were reciting verses from the Bible. Yes, Cas is definitely still the same.

“Okay, okay, just don't say those things out loud.”

“Okay, Dean.”

“Go take your bath, I'm making burgers.”

Cas smiles like a child as he stands up and goes to the bathroom. Dean stands on the bed watching him limp slightly, while he rubs the burn on his butt with one hand on his boxer shorts. He flashes a tired smile. He didn't expect to have to deal with another idiot brother, but he's happy to have Cas in his life. And he'll do anything to protect him.


End file.
